


Dear

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F!Kanan Jarrus, F/F, Mild Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, Pre-Canon, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-07 07:17:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20305573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Kanan's life has been a mess ever since Order 66, but now she has a new business partner and a new job to do. What could go wrong?





	Dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinktomato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinktomato/gifts).

Even before she opened her eyes, Kanan knew the grill pattern from the deck of her cabin was imprinted on her face. The metal came away with an unpleasant stickiness, though a quick visual confirmed that was due to the sweat on her cheeks rather than anything worse. She sat up, letting her internal chronometer sort out that she'd slept through to ship's morning. It counted as sleeping and not passing out, she told herself as she poked through her drawer in hopes of a fresh shirt. She'd made it back to her cabin, after all.

Lights stabbed into her eyes as she opened her door. The _Ghost_ didn't bother with separate lighting to delineate false day from false night. That took extra power, and Hera was almost as obsessed with fuel conservation as she was with taking down the Empire.

"Have you considered picking up some hobbies?" Kanan asked her as she reached the galley.

"Good morning to you, too," Hera said. The scent of her caf filled the room. Kanan's stomach gave a turn and decided it wanted in on the deal. She poured herself a full mug, and spent a minute breathing in the aroma before she drained her cup in one long, burning gulp.

"Better," Kanan said, and she poured out the last of the carafe into her own mug. She paused. "Were you done?"

Hera waved at her, amusement on her lips as she sipped at her own drink. "You need it more than I do, dear."

Kanan stopped short, hot words on her lips in reply to Kasmir's voice in her head. The patronizing nickname wasn't as barbed as it would have been from her old partner and teacher, and was laced with a fondness Kasmir had never let show in case it got in the way of making money. "Don't know what you mean. I'm fresh as a floribloom."

"Sure." She went back to her reading, some datapad she'd downloaded at their last port for a couple of credits. Kanan had spent her share of the credits from their last job on a very nice bottle of nectar, which she'd offered to share. Her headache wouldn't be so bad this morning if Hera had taken her up on that, but no. She'd declined the wine as politely as she did all the other fun things Kanan had suggested in the months since Gorse, and Kanan admitted to herself it was past time to stop asking.

As she nursed her second mug, Hera's grouchy old droid rolled into the galley with them. He looked at Hera, then rolled towards Kanan, beeping at low volume.

"Huh?" She had the worst trouble understanding the Binary coming out of this thing. Most droids she'd worked with were programmed to speak Standard. Minimally, their processors emitted Binary in a flat, easily-understood stream. Chopper had what Kanan could only think of as an accent, though not one like the clipped Coruscant accent she'd grown up hearing nor like the rather sexy accent Hera slipped into sometimes when she was angry. Chopper's vocalizer emitted a kind of permanent irritation. The more Kanan got used to it, the more she was certain half the old C1 unit's language were swear words even the grizzled old miners she used to drink with would blush at saying out loud.

Chopper beeped again, even more quietly this time. Kanan leaned over, cupping her ear. "One more time?"

She was greeted with a shrill beep at full volume directed right into her ear before the droid chirped and asked how her head was this morning.

When the ringing stopped, and Kanan had quashed the urge to pick up the damn thing with the Force and shove him in the wall, she turned to Hera. "How long did you say you've owned that thing? Have you considered an upgrade?" She glared at Chopper. "I saw some modern units for sale pretty cheap at the last port. You might even get two creds for the trade-in."

That earned her a long string of Binary obscenities before the droid rolled out of the room again. Kanan grinned.

"I wouldn't be too pleased with yourself," Hera said. She hadn't even looked up from her reading. "Check your room tonight for traps. He's been known to 'accidentally' drill holes in the bulkhead letting the air in a cabin out to space."

Kanan watched her face. "You're kidding."

"You think you're the first crew member I've brought on?" She shook her head sadly. "We've lost some good people over the years." She shut down her data pad and stood, taking her mug to the sink.

"You are joking. Right?"

Hera ignored her, and went out towards the cockpit. Kanan glanced at the galley, considering breakfast, and knew her stomach wasn't up to it. She drained her caf, rinsed the mug, and followed.

Hera waited for her to plop down in the co-pilot's chair. "Now that you're awake, I want to go over our plans."

Kanan grinned. Her headaches always felt better in the soothing blue wash of the hyperspace glow from outside the cockpit. Second-best cure she'd ever found for a hangover. "First plan, Spira. I have always wanted to unwind on a beach with a gorgeous companion."

Her gorgeous companion didn't even roll her eyes as she pulled up three planets on her screen. "Three possible destinations. I have contacts on this planet and this one, but I heard a rumor about an Imperial base starting construction on this one. Where do we go next?"

Kanan had, during the lean times, done her share of street magic for a few credits here and there. There was always someone who'd pass over a credit to watch what they thought was clever sleight of hand, or who wanted their fortune told. She hadn't been above using her powers in exchange for a hot meal. Playing with the Force was dangerous, though not as dangerous as other things she could have done to stay alive back then. With her extra senses engaged, she'd always managed to melt away before any curious Imps wandered close enough to care about some gutter witch, until enough close calls had convinced her to stop and pick up the far less risky occupation of flying cargoes of high explosives. Hera had come to rely on her in much the same way as the fortune-seekers. The First Mate was in charge of navigation, no matter how she came about their course.

"That one," Kanan said, not letting herself think before she pointed at the Imperial base.

Hera dropped them out of hyperspace. "Set the course."

She pulled up the navicomp, but Hera had already done all the calculations for their possible destinations. A few switches later and they were off, headed towards an adventure Kanan strongly suspected was not going to pay unless they swiped some supplies on their way out the door.

Times like these, with her next petty theft already in the planning stages, Kanan found herself wondering what Depa would think. Had everything not gone to hell, Kanan would be approaching the time in her life when she would complete her trials, cut her braid, and take her place as a full Jedi. Another woman in a different life would be picking up the last, most important lessons from her Master, grown under her wisdom like all the Jedi who came before. She imagined Depa looking at her sprawled here in this life, wearing yesterday's shirt, her hair mussed from a night on the floor, the deck plating still a fading red mark on her cheek. Depa would turn away from her old padawan with a disappointed shake of her head.

"I'm getting better," she mumbled, only to see Hera's glance. She hadn't meant to speak out loud. She rubbed her face with her hand. "I'm going to shower."

"Good plan."

She didn't need to imagine Depa's expression. She read the same resigned disappointment clear enough on Hera's face.

Kanan's stomach churned more as she made her way to the 'fresher which held their tiny shower cubicle. Two people could squeeze in if they were friendly. Hera had not been inclined to be that friendly. Kanan didn't know if she wasn't into women, wasn't into humans, or simply wasn't into her, and she guessed it didn't matter. She'd been invited aboard to be a bravo, planning raids and shooting the bad guys and giving them an extra edge from time to time with the powers she wished she didn't have. She knew Hera wanted her to embrace that side of herself, be the same person Depa would have trained her to be. Kanan didn't need foresight to know where that led. All the Jedi had died. Much better to be a hired gun, and use her money to buy a little forgetfulness.

The water in the shower was warm, not hot. Needless power drain, Hera had said.

Kanan sighed into the wet stream, and worked on the tangles in her hair. She should cut it, she thought, and felt a shiver pass through her.

Kasmir had always made fun of her hair. He didn't have any patience for the tight braids she'd worn in imitation of Depa's far more intricate coils. "You'll draw attention to yourself, dear," she still heard him say on the bad days. She'd hated when he called her "dear," like some delicate, useless child. He'd told her to chop it all off, just as she'd set aside her Jedi robes and dropped her name. Survival meant becoming someone new. She had taken out the braids, feeling that connection to her fallen Master slip through her fingers with each unraveled plait. She'd pulled her hair back and away, and let herself imagine the small bundle of her practical ponytail was a padawan braid. She would cut her hair properly after she passed her trials, and those would never come now. That was another life, and the little girl who'd lived it died on Kaller a long time ago.

* * *

The raid on the Imperial base did not get them killed, and Kanan thought the carbon scoring on the _Ghost's_ hull made it look cool and dangerous. Hera disagreed, spending hours with Chopper fixing and cleaning the mess while they docked on some no-name world away from where the Empire might come calling with an eye to getting their stolen property back.

"I can find us a buyer," Kanan said, watching her work. Hera's goggles protected her eyes from the flashing glints emitted by her sparktorch, but she was half-coated in soot herself. It was a good look, though Void forbid Kanan say so.

"Negative," Hera said, her voice muffled by the sparks. "We're taking that to Taltos."

"We can get paid here without going to Taltos."

"No, and that's an order." From her side, Chopper cursed at Kanan and kept working.

With nothing better to do, she took herself for a walk around what passed for a spaceport on this dustball. The native species was a bipedal race with huge eyes and a soft, thin pelt of fur that seemed to come in every shade from cream through a deep brown, with mottles, stripes, and spots to delineate the youths from the adults. Her eyes were long used to seeking out the details, and she noted that relative poverty of these people in comparison to the other species living here in what passed for a city. The humans and others wore better-made clothes, if not finely-made, and their shops and homes were of newer, stronger materials. The native people lived in their own streets, the older wooden buildings slouching together in rough decay. The buildings were kept clean, though, she noticed as well, and large, colorful tents made of rough but sturdy cloth stretched across alleys and roadways, turning each into a high-roofed, snug hall safe from the frequent storms. Spicy, interesting smells came from cookpots, and everywhere, children ran and played, their parents and grandparents and more all keeping a loose watch over the whole group.

Some days, the bad days, she wondered if she'd been born on a world like this one, surrounded by extended family scratching out a life where the stars were just something to look at overhead. Even as the children passed by her, she felt the tug, a whisper in her mind of the same gift that had set her apart as a youngling and brought her to the Jedi. The Empire didn't care about this world, and wouldn't notice.

The child whose mind she'd felt stopped at his play and wandered over to her, his huge golden eyes examining her with a critical gaze. Humans didn't wander through this part of town often. In thickly-accented Standard, he said, "What do you want?"

"I'm just passing through."

Kanan felt a tickle at the edge of her mind. With a clumsy, untrained hand, he was trying to truth-probe her. In another life, another time, she might have stayed on this world for a while, taking odd jobs and striking up a friendship with the boy, eventually offering to show him how to use the powers he didn't yet understand. But she wasn't ready to return to that part of her life, and the day was lengthening, and Hera was waiting for her back at the ship.

"I know you," said the boy.

"No," she said, and she walked away, feeling his curious eyes follow her until she was well out of sight.

"Where've you been?" Hera asked, when Kanan had made her way back to the dock. "You didn't try selling our cargo, did you?"

"I got an offer of twenty thousand credits for the crates as long I promised to throw Chopper in with the trade."

This earned her a long trill of obscenities from the droid, and a look from Hera that aimed for stern but was more than half a choked-off laugh. Kanan grinned her widest as they boarded the ship.

Once the hatch was closed, she said, "I met a kid with the Force."

"Are you still joking?" She checked Kanan's face. "No, you're not. How do you know?"

She shrugged. "There's a feeling. It's been a long time since I met someone else, but I know what it feels like."

"What are you going to do?" She heard the question under the question. Was Kanan going to stay here on Leenin? Her eyes flashed to the closed hatch again, and back to Kanan's face.

"Nothing." She wondered if she imagined the line in Hera's shoulders relaxing. "He's here safe with his family. No use painting a target on his head."

"Understood. Get ready for departure." She turned her back and led the way back to the cockpit for takeoff, but Kanan was sure she was smiling.

* * *

Taltos was even more of a nowhere destination than their last port. Kanan didn't see a single two-story building in the outpost where they landed. "Are you sure about this? I could have got us a couple hundred for the crate back on Leenin." If they were lucky, they might get twenty out of the deal here, she thought to herself.

"Next time. Bring that." Hera walked out, leaving Kanan and Chopper to drag their hard-stolen goods behind. She waved as people approached the ship, smiling and chatting in a language Kanan didn't know. Hera gestured at the crate, which Chopper shoved past Kanan to bring.

A few of the others came forward to take it. Kanan didn't see any payment exchange hands, but Hera clasped hands with one of the taller people.

"Come on," she said. "Time to go."

"All right." She considered waving, remembered she didn't know what they meant in their culture, and left with a polite nod. "What happened?" she asked Hera as soon as the hatch closed.

"What do you mean?"

"How many credits did we make?"

Hera sighed, heading towards the front of the ship. "Not everything is about credits, dear."

"Let me guess. We're not getting paid."

"They needed those supplies. And now we've made friends." Hera slid into her chair, and Kanan slid into her own beside her.

"Oh good. That'll put fuel in the ship."

"Someday, it might save our lives. We need allies if the mission is going to succeed." And that was that. Hera's first devotion was to her cause. Kanan had known Hera's priorities since the night they'd met, and she wanted no part of it. Kicking the Empire in the pants had been fun, and she didn't mind the opportunities her new partner offered now and again to put on their boots and get a little more prodding in, but while Hera had made it her life's work, Kanan was only dedicated to her paycheck. You couldn't eat freedom, not even if you choked on tyranny every day.

"Fine. You're the boss."

"You picked the job."

Kanan shot her a look, but Hera had that amused expression on her lips now, the gentle ribbing she fell into when they were between the stars and just hanging out together. It was both teasing and apology without falling into either.

"Yeah? Next time, I'm asking the Force for a better contract." But she thought about the boy she'd met briefly back on Leenin, and the gratitude on the faces she'd seen on Taltos. She'd trusted the Force to show her where she needed to go.

"The Force teaches us the lessons we need to learn," Depa had told her early on. "It is not a kind teacher, nor a strict one. The Force will guide you, and you will be the instrument of its will, but it is up to you whether or not you accept the wisdom you acquire along the way." Kanan didn't know what wisdom she'd been meant to learn when everyone she'd known had been killed, when she was betrayed and hunted by men she'd trusted, when she'd buried her old self to survive her new life. She didn't know now what the Force wanted her to learn from meeting a child with the gift whom she couldn't stay to teach, nor from helping people she was pretty sure would sell her and Hera out if it meant their own survival later, no matter what Hera thought.

Hera said, "Next time, ask the Force for better directions."

* * *

The next job almost got them killed. Thank the Force Hera's cranky droid knew how to fly the ship in a pinch, and could fire the forward cannons while he chirped at them to move faster. Kanan held her arm where she'd been grazed by a blaster as she leapt the two meters to the open hatch floating above them. Hera couldn't jump that high, but Kanan focused her powers and yanked her up beside her.

"Go!" Hera ordered, and Chopper hit the engines as they peeled away, almost falling out the back again as it closed behind them, riddled with more blasts. Hera breathed heavily for a moment. "Thanks. That was you, right? I didn't spontaneously develop the ability to fly?"

Kanan grinned. "Nothing would make you happier." Then she winced.

"Let me see that," Hera said, and took a quick look at her arm. "This will be easier with your shirt off."

Kanan went to make a joke about Hera just wanting to see her naked, but instead she drew in her breath with a hiss as the fabric moved against her burn. "Right."

"I'll go check where Chop is taking us, then meet you in the lounge. Can you get there on your own?"

She nodded and watched Hera go. The ladder was a new exercise in pain, which she managed with a lot of swearing. By the time she reached the lounge, her legs were shakier than she wanted to admit. She eased herself down onto the seat. It wasn't a bad injury today. Things would be a lot worse if they ran into stormtroopers who were better shots.

She closed her eyes, opening them to the sight of Hera's worried face. "What?"

Hera didn't say. Instead, she said, "Let's get that cleaned up." With care and some more swearing, Hera helped her get the shirt off. She shivered, the simple breast band she wore offering no insulation from the chilly air. She presented her arm to Hera for inspection, and shivered again at the feel of bare fingertips against her skin. She blinked, noticing where Hera had set her gloves beside the medikit on the dejarik table. Kanan hadn't seen her come in. Must've passed out, she thought. No wonder her friend was worried.

With the same focused attention she gave to a burnt-out manifold, Hera cleaned and dressed the wound with plenty of bacta, though not a drop more than would be covered by the stickiplast. She gave a fond pat on Kanan's bicep when she was finished. "How do you feel?"

"Better, thanks." She glanced at the crumped, charred cloth on the deck. "Guess I'm getting a new shirt next time we make port."

"Guess so. I'll grab your spare one. You want to lie down?"

"I'll be fine." The anesthetic moved through her system, dulling the pain and giving her a pleasantly woozy perspective on the world. The lights were dimmer, and the ship's motion, typically imperceptible, rocked her with a soothing rhythm. Even Hera seemed different, an unusual blush high on her cheeks.

Hera scooped up all the medikit supplies and put them back into the box. Then she went back to the crew quarters before returning with the threadbare second shirt Kanan used when her good one needed a wash. She'd had this one for years, the material almost worn through by hard wear. As she pulled it on over her head, she felt the fabric stretch, and knew it wasn't going to last much longer. "Thanks. So where _are_ we headed? Chop's not sending us towards a black hole again, is he?"

"That wasn't his fault. The navicomp doesn't get along with him."

"No one gets along with him, even you sometimes. Why do you keep him around?"

Hera gave her a quirked smile. "I have a weakness for hard luck cases."

"Hey, I was doing just fine before you came along."

"Of course you were, dear." She rubbed Kanan's hair fondly. "We're headed towards Altooine. They've got a med center."

"I don't need it." She flexed her arm and hid her wince of pain. "Already feeling much better." She read the worry back on Hera's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You're fine, you said. Dinner?" She stood and headed to the galley. "I think we have some rations packs left of the Deneb Steak flavor."

Kanan followed her to the door. "You're not okay. What's going on?" Delayed concern hit her in the gut as she did a quick visual once-over on Hera. "You didn't get shot, too, did you?"

"No." She reached into the cabinet for the packs. Deneb Steak wasn't the best meal Kanan had ever eaten, but it beat grub worms, which she had sampled during the bad times. She watched Hera pop two packs into the reconstituter.

"Can we pretend we already went through twenty rounds of you being evasive, and get to the part where you tell me what's going on? I'm pretty tired right now."

The shift in Hera's shoulders told her most of what she needed to know. "If that trooper had been a better shot, you'd be dead now." She squeezed her hands into fists and released, nervous energy she couldn't let go. "You're not. I'm glad." She didn't look glad. She looked sick.

There was room for a joke, or some teasing, a little something light to bring her smile back. Kanan joined her in the small galley, taking her hand with her good one. "Hey. It all worked out. Neither of us is dead."

Instead of answering her, Hera pulled her closer and kissed her.

Several things went through Kanan's mind at once. First, despite being preternaturally good at most things she tried her hand at, Hera was not a good kisser. Second, her own arm hurt too much to wrap around her, and the other was clutched in Hera's grip. Third, she wished she'd had a chance to rinse her own teeth with some sparklemint because she was suddenly aware that she had to taste of stale caf and worse. Fourth, this was an awkward position for her neck. She'd always been aware that Hera was shorter than she was, but this was the first time she'd had a chance to notice from this particular angle.

Fifth, Hera was kissing her, and this was the most important thing to consider.

"Sorry," Hera said, breaking away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean. Sorry."

"I think you did mean," she replied with a smile. "And I know I definitely meant."

Hera looked at her sceptically. "You flirt all the time. But I know who you are. Jedi don't do any of that. I thought you were putting up a front like the rest of it."

"Rest of what?"

"You pretend to be this reckless bravo, only in it for your next fistful of credits, your next bottle of wine, and the next pretty face you can charm into your bunk. It's your act to keep anyone from suspecting who you really are. I forget sometimes. I'm sorry."

Kanan chuckled, knowing she could get offended right now, but unable to in the face of Hera's clear dismay. "It's not an act. I would like to know where my next credits are coming from, and I should think about laying off the wine."

"You really should."

Kanan glared at her. Then she shrugged. "Anyway, yes, I have charmed quite a few pretty faces into my bunk. I figured you weren't interested."

"And I figured you weren't genuinely interested."

They watched each other. The reconstituter beeped. They ignored it.

They wound up on the deck in Kanan's room. She wasn't sure how. Her head was spinning, a consequence of too many kisses and the anesthetic in her system. Her second-best shirt was somewhere back in the lounge. Her pants were in the corridor. She could just see the bright orange of Hera's jumpsuit crumpled in the open door across the way, but the rest of her view was taken up by a gorgeous expanse of green skin as Hera lowered her to the floor.

The same intensity she brought to the rest of her life was now focused entirely on Kanan. She was fascinated by the way the long hairs in her ponytail moved when she pulled out the clasp, and by the way the finer hairs over her legs stood in shivering approval as Hera moved her lips over the exposed skin. When she threaded her fingers through the crisp, dark curls she found, and one curious thumb brushed against the soft skin hiding beneath, Kanan let out a pleased gasp.

Belatedly, she tried to sit. If Hera hadn't done much kissing, Kanan thought, she wasn't going to be experienced with sex, either. Kanan was more than happy to show her a good first time. It was only polite.

"Lie down," Hera said, and the tone in her voice was the same she gave all her orders in. The sound sent all new shivers over Kanan's body.

She pulled away her hand, tugging a bit. Kanan decided not to bring it up at the moment. She wasn't into hair-pulling as a regular thing. As Hera stood and walked away towards her own cabin, giving Kanan an absolutely perfect vision, she thought quickly that she was open to trying hair-pulling if Hera was interested. In fact, there wasn't a single thing she could think of right now she wasn't interested in exploring.

"Where are you going?" Kanan tried to ask, head still swimming, but Hera was already walking back, something in her hand and an investigative look in her eyes.

"This is mine," she said, thumbing a button that reminded Kanan more than a little of the activation switch for her own lightsaber. Instead of a plasma blade jutting out, the object began to hum in her hand. "I'm willing to bet you'll like it." She settled back between Kanan's legs, and sure enough, Kanan thought, she was right.

* * *

Even before she opened her eyes, she felt the grill of her deck digging into her ear. As she opened her eyes, she saw Hera beside her, half-asleep and unburdened by post-sex hair. She made a noise in her throat, and leaned forward to kiss Kanan awkwardly on the chin.

"Next time, we need to make it into a bunk." She breathed softly. "My bunk. It's bigger."

"The floor's not so bad. I sleep here a lot."

"I know, dear." She curled closer, giving Kanan room to wrap her good arm around her.

"I think I like it when you call me that," Kanan whispered, but Hera was already asleep.


End file.
